


Hellfire

by HushedBreathsOverSecretPrayers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Priest Castiel, Priest Kink, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:32:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HushedBreathsOverSecretPrayers/pseuds/HushedBreathsOverSecretPrayers





	1. Chapter 1

   
  
**_You touched my skin and we both burned in a pyre of forgotten holy ashes._**

 A curious fingertip traces along the gritty surface of damp hallowed stone while a chilly winter storm begins to awaken with shattering roars and crackles of lightning that's spidering out frantically through a starless sky.

 

 There's little shelter to be had for the wandering beast who's features are soft and humored as he considers taking sanctuary inside this lonesome church. These ancient walls are grand in scale, but the ages have not been kind, but it still stands. Tarnished and holy. 

The Demon peers through the stained glass to see inside.  
At first it appears empty but his wandering eye catches the form of a human coming into view. Quietly going about the altar to snuff out a series of creamy white candles.

 _Hmph. I must be late for Mass._

 _Shame._

The beast thought with mocking disdain for the place. However, the irony was too much fun to pass up. So he decides to wait out the storm here. Keep Padre' company.

The Demon grasps the brass sweeping handles and tugs open the doors, softly slipping inside as unnoticed as a snake in the underbrush.

 

 

 

***********

 

 

 

The Priest extinguishes the last candle and watches with quiet intrigue as the cleansing smoke spirals upward towards Heaven.

It had been a quiet evening at Mass tonight. Which isn't unusual. This is a small town and the church is located in a rather out of the way place. They don't have many patrons.  
But Castiel doesn't mind. He enjoys the solitude. Just him and the Father.

 

But not tonight.

 

Tonight an unfamiliar chill finds it's way through his clothes and his head cocks at the unease of it all.   
This church is under disrepair. He's used to drafts that come and go. But never have they gone right to the bone and weaved thorny around his heart to stay a while.

He turns quickly around realizing he's no longer alone. Startled, his breath does catch when his blue irises settle on the form of a man sitting directly across from the alter in one of the pews. Arm slung over the back of the bench, as relaxed as he would be on his living room sofa. Eyes a sliver of bottle green in the darkening dusk of the room. His hair, the color of burnt summer wheat.    
Castiel is caught off, but it hardly shows. He quickly recovers to his usual quiet and impassive exterior as his eyes roam critical over the guest. He doesn't recognize him. Strange...Or maybe it isn't.

But there is an air of 'not right' hanging over the man's head. 

The stranger doesn't seem to mind the Priest's critical eye though. A smile resides on his features. Playful, the ghost of a smirk touching his lips.

 

"Hey there, Padre. Hope y'don't mind me crashin' in here a while." He cocks his head in a gesture out towards the door where just outside you can hear the storm raging down in biblical proportions.  
"Weather's a bitch tonight. "

 

Castiel's eyes narrow at the bold mouth. He doesn't care for that kind of language in the church but he's not ignorant to the ways of the world, so he nods and accommodatingly lets the remark pass.

"...Of course." The Priest sets the emunctorium aside now that all the candles were extinguished and carefully climbs down the altar's steps to greet the stranger.

A chill spreads through his body beneath the stranger's appraising eyes, but Castiel pushes it aside and nods down to him, open and ready to be of service. He note's the stranger's damp clothes and cocks his head off towards the back of the church. Perhaps there's a towel somewhere....

However, before he can act on the thought he's taken aback by a pair of acid green eyes that are suddenly even with his own.  
Inches apart, personal space carelessly breached as the man stares him down.

The Priest's breath stills in the back of his throat and his lips press into a thin line as he meets his eyes without backing down.

"....What are you doing?" Castiel grounds out, soft but with an authority that just seems to make the man grin further.

"Just looking, Padre."

"Hm."

Castiel just hums impatiently and steps aside from him, attempting to dismiss the chill that crawled down his body like a set of unseen fingertips.

"I figured as much." He mutters, and the Stranger's brow raises towards him.

"Figured what?"

To which Castiel just turns back at him, hands folded in front of him.

  
"That you were a wayward traveler....Searching for something.

I've never seen you here before. And no one comes this way purposely.

You must be lost. Whether it's by choice or circumstance I'm not sure."

His companion snorts rudely at that and grazes his tongue along the edges of his stark white teeth.

"You got all that from me coming in outta' the rain?"

"Am I wrong?" Castiel's quick to return and he can see the man weighing whether or not he wants to bother with a truthful answer or not.

"Guess you could say... Little bit'a both." He relents with a strange smile. The kind of smile you wear when you know a secret that everyone else in the room is unaware of.

Ah...There's that unease again.

The Priest falters, then goes to turn to head towards the back of the church.

"Let me get you a towel, Mr---"

Purposeful pause. Leaving the man open to fill in that space with his name if he so chooses.

"...Dean. Can just call me Dean. "

"Dean."

Castiel's scratchy voice sounds out easily. The name rests comfortably on his tongue and he nods.

  
"Well...  
Hello, Dean.  
I'll see about that towel now."

 

 

 

The old wooden door creaks out a weary greeting as Castiel steps inside the sacristy room. Small, humble and poorly lit quarters.

  
There isn't much to see in here apart from a line of cabinets for storage and one lonely crucifix mounted on the center wall.

The Priest walks to the far end of the rectangular room to seek out the drawer where they keep the finger towels. He hooks his grasp around the ornate little knob and rolls out the drawer. There's a row of freshly folded crisp white cloths and Castiel decides three or four should be enough.

 

".........."

 

He begins to softly close it when he suddenly feels an abrupt push of weight against his back and he cracks the drawer shut with a startled slam once he realizes Dean is behind him.... Pinning him.

He _knew_ something was off.

  
He _should_ have paid attention.

The towels fall around their feet and Castiel begins to push back, attempting to get out from where he's been cornered.

He's only met with a rumble of laughter and a vice-like grip that come around and ensnare him, pinning his arms down at his side.

"Whoa-whoa---Hey, easy there, Tiger...." Dean coos with a dangerous edge into the crook of Castiel's neck. Hot breath making the the prickling skin around his ears flushed red hot; his head whirled and rocked.

"..Stop this--" Castiel grits between defiantly clenched teeth.

"I have no money here...."

 

There's another deep rumble from the broad chest pressed so snugly against his spine and for a moment Castiel believes he's being held by the thunder storm from outside.

"I don't want your money, Padre. Relax..." Dean's hands roam up over the Priest's robe, groping for a way inside.

  
And when Dean's true motives click, Castiel wishes to God that this was nothing more than a simple robbery.

His dark brows pull tight, mortified. Then he bucks all his weight back into him, attempting to throw Dean off.

This actually seems to surprise the man because he sucks in a startled breath, which quickly descends into maniacal laughter.   
Dean wasn't expecting him to fight back like this.

But, unfortunately for Castiel, Dean remains immovable.

 _What in God's name is going on?_

 

Castiels' worried mind breathes out. Dean's strength is almost inhuman. He can't even seem to get an inch between them and panic takes hold of him.

"...Please just--" He breathes, trying to pull some authority back into his voice but it's nearly impossible when Dean's fingers are tearing open the buttons of his cloak. "Please just leave. I won't call the police. Just be on your way---You have my word, Dean--I--"

"What's your name?" Dean interrupts, not giving a damn about whatever the hell the Priest was rambling on about.

"....What?"

"Your name.  
What is it? Didn't tell me back there..." His tongue flicks against the shell of his ear and Cas swallows thickly.

 

".....Castiel. My name is Castiel."  
His hair blows into the side of his face from the obnoxious snort of the man behind him.

"Ain't kidding around with the holy crap in your family, huh?"

 

Castiel's brows knit at that and he grips at Dean's wrists, trying to still the motion of his hands.

"Yes, well...Me Father wasn't much for....'Kidding around' " Curt, moving onto more pressing matters.

"Dean, don't do this. Stop. We can talk about this. If you need...Anything, I---"

"Cas," He whispers, slipping his hand inside his robe. "You already got what I need..."

He manages to tear away enough buttons to get inside his Cassock, a skilled hand yanks and tugs until he can pull up at the hidden layers beneath and Castiel feels the sudden unbelievable heat of a hot callused palm dragging flat across his abdomen and his heart jackhammers up into the base of his throat over how quickly this was unraveling.

  
Soon Dean's deft fingers were working at his belt and Castiel's body snapped into that primal fight or flight instinct you read about.

He fights.

He lands a blow to Dean's ribs with his elbow. He shoves and yanks forward to dislodge Dean's grip and that...Didn't seem to strike Dean particularly funny this time.

A roar tore from enraged lips and suddenly a hand clamps down over the nape of Castiel's neck and he's shoved forward, bent over the desk.

His senses are dulled and vacant for a moment when when he realizes his skull whacked against the wood.

There was no pain. Adrenaline he supposes is responsible. God certainly did grace human's with many little gifts to protect them in moments of harm...

Darkness almost took him over, but he's able to snap himself awake in time to hear the clink of his buckle and feel the belt whip free of his pants.

Which he thought would be the worst, but no.

Suddenly the belt is looped and swung over Castiel's sore bowed crown, ensnaring his throat like a makeshift noose.

  
Dean has the strap fed through in on itself and the buckle pulled taut enough to cut into Castiel's Adam's apple. Making swallowing a task.

He's frightened now.

What a failure he is.

He failed as an ordinary human being, and now he's failing as a man of the cloth.

He believes in the Almighty, in Heaven. In everything he's sworn his vows to.

He should feel nothing but certainty in this moment, but all he feels is terror.

He's not ready. He doesn't want to die. Not like this.

His eyes prickle with frightened tears, threatening to spill against his will and his hands reach up frantic to grab at the belt.

He doesn't fight, because right now he can breathe, he fears any pulling would just make dean draw it tighter.

So his fingers just curl in and hold onto it because....It's the only thing there to hold.

He keeps his damp features hidden away, pressed against the wood of the desk.

Lips moving rapidly in utterance of a whispered prayer to comfort himself.

 

Dean however, is observing with interest. Despite what seems like an angry grip on the belt, he is in total control now after reeling his temper back in.

He studies the tremble in the Priest's shoulders. It's slight. He can tell the man is using his all to remain composed.

But the smell of fear is seeping into the air like a gas leak. Dean can taste it on his tongue like a snake...And it's intoxicating.

The man does suffer beautifully. And he's a fighter. Ballsy despite the Jesus dress.

Dean smirks and his free hand smooths over the slope of Castiel back.

 

"Now now now....Don't be scared, Padre...."

Spoken with the sickening sweetness of sugar melting on his tongue, and all that does it anger the Priest. He's caught between fear and indignation.

He may be terrified, but he'll be damned if he'll allow Dean to know it.

His jaw squares in defiance and he grips the belt a little tighter.

"I'm not scared.

If you think this is the first time there's been a noose around my neck then you are mistaken. And the first time it was wielded by _my own_ hand. So, I'm hardly frightened of yours."

His captors head tilts sideways at that. Suddenly more than surprised and curious.

"That so?

What makes a guy like you wanna check out early? Tired of the long distance relationship with the guy upstairs?

Wanted something a little more..."

Dean hips rock forward and nudge into Castiel's ass and begrudging breath escapes the man pinned beneath him.

Castiel's hot cheek presses to the woods cool surface, eyes still held tightly closed.

"None....Of your business. "

Firm and unwavering. He's not sharing a painful piece of himself with someone who's about to do nothing but offer him more pain, and probable death for that matter.

And Dean seems to have lost interest anyway.

If the rush of cool air that washes over Castiel's suddenly bare backside is any indication.

Dean's yanked both his slacks and undergarments down and it's just...Horrifyingly humiliating.

And why does this church always have to be so damn cold.

He chokes on his own breath, because the cold against his skin is so suddenly contrasted by the hot chape of Dean's hands. Flat and groping into the soft give of flesh.

Castiel only whimpers. Pride beginning to take a backseat to this fresh dose of reality.

".....God have mercy on me. Please."

Dean's eyes actually do lift from the arousing view before him and instead come to rest on the mess of dark hair and trembling shoulders of the person beneath him....Person. He's a person. A feeling aching thing. Christ. There was a time when that meant something. It was so long ago, but sometimes...Dean can remember.

He _Wants_ right now. His whole polluted vessel is a rabid hungry ugly beast of selfish desire.

But there's still this....Thing. This annoying thing inside. An ember that burns just hot enough to be felt. An ache from someplace long ago. It infects him with the inconvenience of...Empathy and....Regret.

Right now....Pity.

He could tear him to pieces right now and mindlessly fuck the meat.

A part of him licks its lips at the thought.

Another part of him recoils in disgust.

Right now it's him being torn to pieces. And that makes him angry. Overcome with unwelcome mother fucking emotion.

He just lingers there in limbo.

 

 

****************  
_  
_

_God almighty, what is he doing? Why is he dragging this out? Probably a torturous game..._

 

Castiel could very nearly weep. The minutes feel like eternity. The not knowing....He's been holding his breath so long his chest feels like a oven.

He can't take it anymore.

He's just desperate enough to make one final plea. He reaches out blindly behind him and grasps at Dean's hand that's currently curled around his hip and he squeezes it. Quiet pleading. Stop.

"Please, Dean?"

 

And with that, Dean's just fucking come undone.

A toxic outburst of emotions are boiling up in him but Castiel's somber touch somehow freezes him in place.

He's not gonna do this. He can't. For some fucking reason he can't put together right now...He gives a fuck. And he doesn't want to hurt him.

Surprising to both him and Castiel, Dean's thumb traces against the Priest's hand... They both stop breathing.

And finally Dean comes to his senses and rips his arm away from his hold and falters. Forcing himself to step back, giving the Priest enough room to stand.

But of course he fucking doesn't. He remains so perfectly still and afraid and..Submissive looking and...Fuck he wants him.

But he remains still. Teeth clenched like a steel cage.

He can taste blood in his mouth. He's biting his own tongue in outrage at himself.

 

"Get up."

And Castiel does.

Slowly, as if trying not to startle a bear he came upon in the woods.

He's still shaken and uncertain....But he hears a resignation in Dean's voice and he's silently thanking God for whatever miracle is allowing this man to rethink his decision.

The priest holds up a set of placating hands and slowly turns so he can face him, look him in the eyes with gratitude.

"......"

But....

There is something...Terribly terribly wrong.

Castiel's dark brows pull tight and he squints through the dimly lit room to see that he must be wrong.

The shadows playing tricks on him.

They're not.

Dean's eyes were **Black**. Not even a normal shade that you see in regular life. No. These were cold endless pools of empty onyx. Whatever light in the room glinted off them like moonlight on a lake. He'd never seen anything like it in his entire life and it makes his knees buckle. He falters and has to catch himself on the cabinet behind him as he backtracks.

This is much...Much bigger than he even realized. This man isn't a man at all. And that sounds like pure raving madness to even think it. But it's right here in his face. Breathing...Angry.

The eyes are black orbs but the corners of them etch deep in fury once Dean seems to realize that Castiel sees. He knows.

That compassionate stance flees his body as quickly as it arrived and Dean lunges at him.

His hand comes around the Priest's throat and he clutches, cutting off his air.

Teeth bared like an animal.

Castiel scrambles and grasps at Dean's wrists, pawing and helpless. The man was just too strong.

He's never been more afraid.

He searches Dean's eyes and there's just nothing. A darkness that came right out of God's boarded up basement, not meant to be looked upon with human eyes.

And yet here Castiel was, having the terrible privilege to bear witness.

He Squeezes at Dean's wrist like he did before and there's another slow dawning. A flicker of recognition and Dean's jaw seems to unhinge like a snake and gape open, releasing a roar that seers through Castiel's nerves and rattle bones in the gutters. Blue eyes widen in fright and suddenly Dean releases him and Cas has to catch himself again while Dean back's away unsteady. Chest heaving. Working on controlling himself...Which is somehow even more confusing to Castiel.

"What...." Voice trembling. "What are you?....Lucifer....."

Dean turns away from him enough to scrub his hands over his face and compose.

Once he does, Cas actually strikes him kinda funny.

He snickers into the darkness of his hands, then looks back up at him. Rage replaced by a smirk now.

"Please...That dickbag ain't worth all the hype he gets.

No.

You ain't having a...'Needful Things' moment there, Padre. "

 

Castiel's head is spinning. And for Christ sakes, his pants are still around his ankles.

He looks debouched.

They both notice at the same time.

Dean seems humored, the way his lips curve up.

Castiel...Not so much.

He grabs the belt from around his neck and discards it before quickly ducking long enough to snatch his pants and pull them up.

Dean rolls his eyes.

What a waste.

 

"....Then what are you?

You're not human. Your eyes---"

 

Dean cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

"Yeah yeah...Black. I know.

You ain't gonna like the answer.

  
I'm a Demon."

 

And Castiel's eyes fall closed.

The room sways. He can hardly begin to wrap his mind around this. Of course its...Taught somewhat in church doctrine but...He never looked at any of it as flesh and bone fact.

This almost feels like a dream.

But when he opens his eyes, Dean is still standing there. Black eyes and all.

But Dean thinks they seem to be distracting, so he remembers himself and blinks them away. Lenses now switched to sea glass green.

He steps closer to him and Castiel's shoulders square.

Dean smiles.

Castiel bumps the damn drawer behind him and huffs.

 

"Why are you here? What do you want? To....Tempt? To pull me from the eyes of God and into your--"

 

"Christ, Padre. Do you hear yourself with all that wacko mumbo jumbo?"

Dean cuts off, and Castiel's lips press into a thin line. His head cocks subtly and he stares Dean down to detect deceit...He doesn't.

"I don't understand. "

Dean scoffs. "No shit. There's a lot goin' on in this big shitty train wreck of a world, Cas. And you don't have half a fuckin' clue about any of it.

And frankly..."

Dean lean's into the Priest's space again. Trapping him with intimate proximity.

"I didn't drop in to play teacher. I dropped in to get laid.

But you're about as much fun as a cactus wrapped in itchin' powder...So I think I'll pass...."

Castiel's eyes narrow up at him. Their lips are even and he can taste the stale whisky on Dean's breath. It burns his senses and he visibly tenses.

".....So now what? What are you going to do to me?"

He risks...He has to ask. He's hoping murder isn't on the agenda.

Dean's smirk deepens and he lean's in, the bulbs of their noses brush and Castiel is concerned how his fear is suddenly draining from him. Replaced by something else that he can't name. He feels like a satiate being pulled into this creatures orbit and it's upsetting that he can't find the strength to take hold of himself and stop.

"Whadda ya want me to do?"

Dean's teases, lips ghosting. And Castiel frowns.

"Leave me in peace...Do not harm me and I will not harm you."

He manages. Eyes trained on Dean. Dean who's face....Almost seems to sag with the rejection. Then suddenly he pushes forward. Crushing their mouths together. It's forceful and yet, somehow giving. Castiel's never been kissed before in this manner, so he stands there stock still and dumbstruck. Dean doesn't seem to mind. He pushes his tongue forward, persistently searching and licking into the cavern of the Priest's mouth. Arcing inside with a hot breath. Making room for himself inside...In more ways than one.

Castiel's eyes flutter closed and he finds himself tenderly returning the kiss before he even realizes it's happening.

Dean's about as surprised as he is.

They both break apart slowly and stare at each other in the dark.

Castiel is trembling.

The Demon lean's forward. Sinful lips press to Cas's ear and a whisper curls inside with frightening promise.

"...Leave the light on, Padre."

 

And suddenly, like a sharp of intake of breath...He's met with empty air before him. The warm firm wall of muscle no long there to brace his weakened form, Castiel staggers and blinks in disbelief. Eyes searching ever dark corner.

  
Dean was gone.

But there was another ear shattering crack of thunder outside. The monstrous storm continued to rage on and bleed it's way inside.

And it was only the beginning.

 

 

  _To be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble in dread before them, for your God goes with you. He will not fail you or abandon you.** _

 

The past three or four days came and went like waltzing through a thick fog lain heavy over Castiel's eyes since his disturbing encounter with the man--or, no. Not a man at all.

Since his encounter with the _Demon_ who had somehow sullied hallowed ground.

 

The Priest watches the shadows crawl across the ceiling. Taking on deceitful shapes of long fingertips taking a groaning stretch outward from the corners, clawing at nothing. 

A trick of the mind of course. Human's eyes are created to find form in the formless. If something isn't there, the mind will automatically do it's best to fill in the empty spaces. Much like cloud gazing.

Perhaps that's all it is.

What happened to him that night. Perhaps it was nothing more than a waking dream.

He knows better however...He knows nothing that vivid and soul snatching could come to him as a hazy daydream. It was raw and all too real. All too frightening...Confusing. He can't make a lick of sense out of any of it.  
But that creature's eyes have been haunting his every waking thought, and every nocturnal turning since.

Castiel tugs the blanket in closer to his chest, aware now of a chill. Those wicked shadows and their trickery continued their dance and whirl. Their fluidity though, suddenly interrupted. A looming darkness blots out any flicker of light and a human shape paints overhead.

Castiel's heart quickens and stirs. His sweaty palms twitch and he rattles the sleeve of his pajama shirt, slipping a tucked away blade into a ready grasp. How foolish he felt to have been sleeping with such a thing at his side, but now he's grateful for that impulsive whim.

He sits upright and wary blues seek out the source of the shadows in the murky dark. At first his gaze settles on something...But then he realizes it's just the vacuum cleaner he had neglected to put away before he turned in for the night.

His squared shoulders sag, but before he can savor the taste of relief, the mattress dips down beneath a sudden weight and Castiel doesn't even bother to look and see what it is. He's scrambling. But his legs are tangled in the unforgiving sheets and before he can even hurl himself from the bed, an immeasurably strong hand snatches him by the chest of his shirt, yanks and shoves him downward into the bed.

Before he knows what's happened, familiar darkened emeralds are burning down at him. Trapped under Dean's weight, his arms pinned at either side of his head. The priest just gapes up at him, too shocked to remember to breathe.

"You--"  
A breathy sandpaper rasp croaks from Castiel's throat and his shaking hands  ball into resistant fists as he pushes against the hands that bind him.

 

It's no good of course

The Demon doesn't budge. Only smiles.

The blade Castiel was concealing however, takes a tumble from his sleeve and thumps against the mattress. 

Both of their eyes snap towards the sound and the Priest's heart begins to thrum like a hammer against cloth in his chest.

The Demon's brows quirk and he smirks, reaching down to grab the blade. Castiel chokes and squirms beneath him.

Dean chuckles and gives the knife a skilled twirl in his fingertips.

 

"Kinky, Padre. "

 

He takes the knife and flips it, resting the flat of the blade against the Father's worried pout. The Demon takes a moment to admire his mouth. Full lips, overheated in a dusky blush of rose in the dark.  
He also admires that he can sense the fear dripping off him, but it doesn't show physically.  
Dude's got balls for a guy that spend his days in a little black dress.

Dean rumbles another chuckle and gently dips the tip of his knife to trace delicately against the shape of his jaw, which immediately goes taut beneath the touch, and Dean drags light over his throat, hooking the end of the knife beneath a crucifix resting over the Priest's chest and lifts the necklace into view.

 

".....Thought this was the only protection you needed, Cas?"

He whispers, leaning in close to his face. 

Castiel ignores it. Instead reaching up his free hand to snatch the Demon by the wrist.

 

"Dean...Please."

 

Blue eyes implore and the monster's head cocks. He could continue to tease him with the threat...But suddenly the idea ain't so appetizing. 

His green eyes roll and he lifts the blade from Castiel's throat.

"Relax. Not gonna fuck up your clean sheets."

 

Castiel finally starts to breathe again, but his brows pull questioningly once Dean starts to pass the knife back into his hand.

 

"That's cute though. You actually thought that toothpick would hurt me?

C'mon, Padre. You can do better than that."

 

"........"

 

Castiel shifts, a bit indignant beneath him. Yes. Dean is still being both straddling and conversational.

 

"It's not as if I could look up the best self defense against your kind."

 

"No?" Dean chimes in, mocking. "Thought that book you followed had all the answers."

 

Castiel held the blade a little tighter and, hey....Look at that. Father kick your ass is pretty hot when he's pissed.

Dean smirks yet again and leans down closer. Their noses almost brushing. 

"What? You wanna hurt me?"

Castiel's dark lashes flutter as the warmth from Dean's lungs ghost over his face.

   
"...I only wanted to protect myself. I wouldn't harm you unless you gave me no choice...."

To that, the Demon just hums in amusement. "Shouldn't you want to? Ain't I the bad guy in this story?"

 

The only sensical answer to that should be yes.  
But Castiel can't find that certainty in his bones and it's devastating to his entire being, to question such a thing. 

His tongue darts out nervously to wet his always dry lips. His shoulders square and his eyes stare deeper into him.  
It sorta freaks the Demon out.

"I don't know." Castiel whispers for nobody but them to hear. "Are you?"

 

It's unnerving. The way the Priest looks at him. 

It makes the ugly secret thing on Dean's arm seethe with a white hot flash of rage and he's got to clench his jaw to curb it. He can taste blood on his teeth and his head pounded with unsavory desires painted in images of blood. 

The Priest is getting too bold with him. Losing his fear. 

Dean can't have that. So he calmly takes him by the hand, so they're both clutching at the ebony handle, the Demon can feel Castiel's fingers twitch with uncertainty beneath his, but he doesn't let up. He pulls the knife up closer to his own lips and Castiel watches with muted unease.

  
The thing over top of him locks with his eyes and the Priest watches the Demon's tongue uncurl past his lips and laps a dirty flick against the edge of the knife. Castiel recoils and he tries to pull the knife away.

"Enough...Stop."

But the hand enclosed around his tighten and Dean's eyes suddenly ink black and a determined snarl sets into his features and he begins to push the tip of his tongue against the blade until Castiel feels a warm trickle drip down over him. His stomach flips in disgust and he tries yet again to pull the blade away.

"...I said stop--"

But the scent of copper filled the air and he's reminded that this isn't a man at all as the sound of wet sawing through muscle seeps into his ears. 

Dean's carving a serpent like split right through and the blood is flowing sluggish and plenty.

No longer able to stand it, the Priest turns his face away from the sickening display and he tries in vein to let the knife go. But that only happens when Dean decides it.

The knife is let free and now the Demon's firm grasp captures Castiel by the chin and he forces them to face each other.

"Look at me-"

He demands and Cas does.

Dean looks like just about every creature you'd see from any generic horror film you could imagine. It's frightening.

"Why?"

And to that, Dean's tongue melds back together. The split vanishes as the muscle heals itself almost immediately.

"So you remember _what_ I am. Stop being so sure of yourself."

The Priest just gapes up at him, appalled.

"....I'm not sure of anything anymore. "

Dean Just smirks at that, the menace passing. His thumb lightly brushes just beneath the swell of Castiel's lower lip and down his chin.

Flustered tiers part, it's a several seconds before the Priest realizes that blood had dripped from Dean's mouth onto him and the Demon is wiping it away. 

His chest fills with too much heat, too much pressure. Too much everything. 

He pushes against him again with defeated strength.

"Please leave me. Just go...I can't. If this is a test I can't imagine the kind of lesson I'm to draw from it. "

The Demon scoffs. 

 

"Stop looking for a deeper meaning where there ain't one. God doesn't have his hand up my ass. There's no 'lesson' of the divine here, man. 

No God either. "

Spoken with a careless shrug of his shoulders, his palms come up to drag over the body beneath him, curving over his chest. 

Castiel doesn't take kindly to his words, his teeth clench and he pushes against him once more.

"You're wrong. 

In fact, your presence here is further proof that he exists, he's--"

But he's cut short as the Demon snarls and and grabs at his arms, pinning him down.

"I didn't say he didn't exist... Said he wasn't here. 

He's not anywhere. Newsflash, Padre. There is a God. But he don't give a fuck about any of us. He's long gone. Instead of Hymns, you guys need to learn how t'play Hit The Road, Jack on your fuckin' pipe organs. Because that's the only theme song the guy deserves..."

The Demon's rant, raging as it is, sounds evidently less like a cruel device of word, and more like bitterness and loathing.

"....You really think things would be the way they were if he was here? You thinking something like _Me_ would be in your fucking bed right now if he was watching? You think a thing like me would even fucking _exist_ if he cared.

He doesn't.

You're just as alone in this shit hole of a life as I am."

Castiel just lays there, eyes glazed over in a damp sheen of wavering certainty. 

Not that the Demon truly deserves credit for this. Castiel has had...Doubts... For a long time now. Longer than he'd care to admit. Doubts that have haunted him his entire existence perhaps. This is nothing new. Dean just happened to be rather skilled and finding the right scab to pick at.

His lashes flutter over the unwelcome wave of sadness and he blinks away the loathsome wetness that gathers at the corners of his eyes and down his temple.

"....That's what faith is, Dean. Believing in something when it's almost impossible. Giving your doubts away to a higher power and just trusting that you're doing the right thing. "

The Demon just snickers.

"How's that workin' out for you so far?"

Giving his wrists a squeeze for emphasis and Castiel's head tips sideways, eyes still troubled and questioning.

"Did you come back just to argue theology with me?"

Deadpan.

Dean's lips quirk up.

"Nah. M'not the Jehovah's Witness of the Underworld. Just dropped in to see a pal. "

_Pal_

Castiel could almost laugh, if he was in less dire straits. 

"....You have a peculiar notion of friendship."

"Do I?"

And with that, easy as breathing. Dean sinks down and tastes him. Plush lips lock with velvet hunger and he bites a hum of satisfaction against a startled pout.

The Priest flinches with a bolt of alarm and he turns his face away from Dean's inviting mouth.

"No. 

Don't."

There's a guttural growl and a hot breath against his throat and before he knows it, there's a set of ink black eyes leering over him.

"Why not?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

Castiel gives flatly, and the Demon snorts. 

Dean ducks down, snapping his teeth inches from the Priest's face. A threatening display of dominance that Castiel doesn't flinch at this time. 

He stares at Dean through the dark, hazy eyes and a distant frown of confusion.

Dean exhales impatiently, the rush of breath makes Castiel's lashes flutter.

"What's that face for?"

Dean barks back, and Castiel's gaze wanders over his tightening features.

"What are you?"

And at this point, the Demon's had it with him.  
His jaw clenches and he shoves himself off of him in one rushes motion.

"Didn't we already cover this twenty fuckin' times? Hell more do you want? Levitation? Linda Blair level head spinnin'? Whole nine?"

Castiel's hands fold over his chest and he lays calmly beside him, watchful eyes sidecast towards Dean.

"Can you do that?"

Dean's eyes roll and he turns towards him.

"Maybe... Why? That what gets your engine hummin' there, Padre?"

The Priest's eyes narrow. 

His turn to be impatient this time.

"No more jokes. No more remarks. 

You show up out of nowhere...Threaten me. Put your hands on me. 

I think you're going to kill me.  
You don't.  
I don't know why.  
You tell me you're this...Thing. 

Where did you come from, why me...Why were you even seeking refuge in a church? How did such an abomination gain access to hallowed ground, I don--"

Suddenly Dean's in his face again. Bearing down on him with force, pinning his shoulders down.

_Abomination.  
_

That dirty word sends the Demon's temper into overdrive. Who the fuck is he to talk to him like that? He's been pretty fucking swell to him if he does say so himself. 

If he was any other Demon, the bastard would have been gutted with his skin hung up to dry up on the steeple by now. 

And now he has the nerve to spat in Dean's face. 

_Lessons have to be taught_ the mark urges. _Foolish boy needs to take his medicine. Punish him._

_Show him what an abomination really is_

  
"You think I won't kill you?" He demands.

 

Castiel's shoulders square. Show no fear.

"...You haven't."

_"Yet."_

The Demon hisses back at him. Hands going back to the same business of pawing at the Priest once again, his eyes now nothing but a reflective black void. 

His teeth are vice like and tight and he's becoming less and less responsive to Castiel's protest. 

The Priest now realizes...Maybe he did grow a little too sure about a situation he knew nothing about. Because rough hands were suddenly tearing away at his pajamas. Air was chilling his suddenly bare torso and Dean wasn't letting up. 

There was no snark. No crude humor. No humanity. The nasty thing beneath his skin had lost it's patience and seemed to have only one interest. 

 

_Punish him._

"...Wait--stop. Dean...No- _**Dean**_ -!"

Castiel's voice chokes, cut off as callused fingers hook into the waistband of his loose hanging pants and force them down until they tangle and trap his thighs. Exposing all his vulnerable soft areas to the force over top of him.

There's a hot rake of teeth and a sooth of tongue against the crook of his neck and his sensitive untouched nerves scream beneath his skin. The organ between his legs gives an unholy betraying  twitch and he feels unclean. And more worthless than he has in a while. 

He's lost all control of the situation and it was getting out of hand before he could grab it.  
 _  
_

_He's so heavy... Please stop, please get off._

His whole body goes rigid at the sudden bold hand that comes up between his thighs to roughly cup and fondle his heat, the Demon's determined to wake up and arouse his body against his will.

Wrong. It's all so wrong. And he doesn't want it. Saving himself all these years just to have the sanctity of his body stolen from him by a thing that looks at him with the coldness of a slab of concrete.

His voice cracks and he claws blood into the front of Dean's chest to stop him. He pleads with his hands because fear has stolen his voice. 

A shocking blunt press nudges him down _there_ , and his neck cranes back with a jolt as he pushes his feet against the mattress to try and slide away from Dean's fondling digits.

_" **Stop**!  
_

_Please!"_

 

Castiel reaches down between his legs, frantically grabbing at Dean's wrist to pull him away.

"I _Can't_ \- don't--don't make me--"

His voice grounds out a desperate plea from so deep in his core that tendrils of his own soul feel entwined. 

The pain he felt he was moments from would shake him through to his bones and tear him open.

Eventually, he just decides to abandon fighting him off altogether. He release the Demon's wrist and instead reaches for _him_ , he rests his shaking hands at either side of Dean's neck, fingers wrapping and interlocking to hold securely around his nape. 

He breathlessly seeks him out and presses his forehead to Dean's heated brow and holds onto him for dear life. Looking for sanctuary in in the last place logic would tell him to look.

" _Mercy_..."

He whispers husky and pained against the Demon's countenance, the brittle sound of it trembles.

"....Have Mercy on me."

The Demon freezes. The son of a bitch _thing_ on his arm feels like it's got its own pulse; just relentlessly hammering away. Dean's teeth are itching for blood and his skin feels too tight on his body. All he feels is a relentless feverish _drive_ towards some kind of conclusion. Relief. A place to put all this pent up uncontrollable destructive rage.

But all that heat is extinguished when eyes, cool as blue winter seek out his own.

 

 

 

_He's scared...I'm hurting him. I don't wanna hurt him..Stop. I'm losing it again. Gotta stop._

Dean pries himself from Castiel and moves off of him. His hands are shaking with the desire to do harm and his lungs were drowning in toxic tar.

Castiel is watching with stunned eyes as Dean wages a war within himself. They both looked equally helpless now.

The Demon climbs from off the bed and searches the dark, his motives become clear quickly and as soon as Castiel sees Dean grabbing at a chair set up in the corner, the Priest is raising his arm to shield his eyes.

Dean hurls the chair brute force into the wall with a satisfying crash. 

Wood splinters about the room and plaster crumbles beneath the strength of it. Castiel's spine is pressed back against the headboard and another blow is landed and the chair falls apart and crumbles to the floor, no match for the force that had been wielding it.

The mark writhes beneath Dean's better flesh and his lips catch in a pained snarl as he clutches his arm, his thumb digging into the angry red throb beneath, pulsing a glow in the dark.

Castiel has forgotten to breathe, but eventually he grapples his wits about him long enough to pull up his pants and slide out of bed. Brave. He stands at a watchful distance, trembling lips trying to find their voice again.

"....What's happening to you?"

He risks the question, and Dean throws an angry glare his way that would set a weaker man off running. But Castiel remains, his chin lifts just slight and proud.

"Dean. What is that on your arm. "

Black eyed and furious, the Demon closes his eyes and digs his thumbnail in deeper. Fighting pain with pain.

".....Doesn't matter. "

"Clearly," Castiel asserts "It does."

And by the time the Demon's eyes are open again, the Priest is at his side, offering his hand.

"....Let me see it."

Dean snorts humorlessly. "You must be fucking joking."

And with that, Castiel takes hold of his wrist and begins to to push his sleeve up, bunching it around his elbow. Where his boldness is coming from, he'll never know. And why the Demon stills, they're both at a loss.

The mark stands on Dean's skin like an ugly red brand. Thick with the scar tissue of permanence. Castiel's memory stirs at the sight of the thing, his head cocks sideways and his eyes roam clinically over Dean's flesh.

_The mark of Cain_.

 

Castiel remembers this very symbol etched into the pages he used to study back in seminary school.

This of course made no sense. What the mark of Cain has to do with a Demon...This was above his training.  
Perplexed brows pull as if he was deciding his next move in a game of chess, he then brushes the soft pad of his fingertips over the angry red and Dean hisses through his teeth when the flesh ignites, glowing beneath the touch. Castiel's chest clenches in surprise and he withdraws his fingers and gazes up at Dean.

"This..."  
He stammers.  
"This is an affliction?"

The Demon just yanks his arm from the Priest's grasp and leers at him through the dark.

"... The road to hell is paved with the bones of men who never knew when to quit fighting."  
Dean muses in what was supposed to come out as sing-song deadpan mockery of the situation, but instead his words rang with the heavy burden of truth and Castiel's head cocks to the right as he parses him, comprehending...At least, trying to.

"Dean."  
Soft.  
"Let me---I can help you."

But he's just met with the rude gust of a snort in his face that he has to blink away. Dean's like a damn bull.

The Demon scoffs and rolls his sleeve all the way down.

"You can't help me.  
Nobody can. I made my bed, now I get to fuckin' lie in it.  
Nothing you or whatever worthless prayer you're gearing up to send can do to fix this.  
Don't matter. This happened to me because I was trying to do the right thing. Your God doesn't care about that."

"That isn't true."

"You really believe that? What about your little necktie party incident?"  
Flatly given, and Castiel is taken aback. He'd almost forgotten that personal scar that he up and blurted out in the middle of that chaotic incident. He falters and his words are lost, and before he knows it Dean's moved in in that too close sort of way again.

"Yes, well...That was a dark time in my life. I've been trying to...Make amends for my indiscretions."  
A nervous hand touches at his own throat at the lonely memory of his failure.  
Castiel lived as an exile in an uncaring family, moved to an even more uncaring church as a teenager. It seemed the harder he searched for meaning, for the right thing. The harder he would fall and the more lost he would become. And on the day he had given up, the day he needed God the most...That was when he left him. He felt no touch of understanding. No Grace. No love from a heavenly father he had given himself over to wholly.

The despair and the pointlessness of it all sunk deeper inside him than humanly possible to ever carve out and in that awful moment, it just made slipping that rope around his neck so easy.

Before Castiel could reflect any further though, another hand nudged his own out of the way and slips up comfortably snug around his throat.  
Helpless blue's turn up towards Dean, startled.  
But the touch isn't threatening. Instead it's gentle and curious. The Demon's thumb traces beneath his jaw, a small area on the left side where the skin was a little rougher. A bunched patch of sad reminder. The scar from where the rope cute in and tried to steal his air.

Much like it's being stolen now, the way Dean's touching him. It's making his lungs still and burn with the fear of the intimacy of it all, watching him caressing his shame.

"...Please don't."

A shaken hand brushes the inside of Dean's wrist but the request is ignored, instead the Demon pressures and angles his head to tip it back, Castiel's teeth clench. But for whatever reason, he submits. He closes his eyes and lets the creature have his way with him.

The scar isn't too noticeable. It's hidden beneath the shadow of where his jaw squares, but it can be felt easily. And seen depending on where the light is. Dean eyes it with morbid curiosity and a touch of pity.  
He's been low, but never that low.

Well, except when he turned into this thing.  
Not gonna lie, if it was possible to punch his own ticket at this point he probably would.

His thumb drags over it again and the Priest's throat trembles.

"Why'd ya do this to yourself?"  
Bold and straight to the point.  
Castiel's lips press into a thin line and his brows knit tightly as one eyes cracks open to watch him.

"Why do you have the mark of Cain on your arm?"

The Demon's eyes lift to his and his lip curves up.

"Don't feel like getting into it. "

"I don't either."

Dean almost chuckles. Gotta admire the guts on this guy.

They lock eyes for a long beat, taking each other in against the silence.  
Dean breaks first, he lifts his thumb and leans in to press a warm open mouthed kiss to the spot and Castiel tried to flinch away but Dean's arm hooked around his back to keep him in place.

"No--I can't"

"Why." Gruff, muffled against the crook of his neck before a pair of hardened dark eyes stare him down.

"I took _vows_...I _can't."_  
  
But Dean doesn't let him go, holding tighter to him, trapping him in an urgent embrace.  
The Priest's stomach flips but in a way that's different from before. Dean's different. Human. Not pawing at him like a feral animal.  
But still, he cannot allow this. So uncertain hands come up to hold against Dean's chest to keep him at bay.

"--Dean I can't."

The Demon growls and walks him back until the Priest stumbles and feels the hard edge of the dresser digging into his tailbone.  
An uncomfortable huff escapes him and he just pushes back again in timid refusal, but Dean's hand's have a mind of their own and slip easily beneath the Priest's night shirt, rough and scorching hot as the smooth down the length of heaving ribs.

"C'mon, took vows for what? Guy that walked out on you? On all of us?  
Aren't you tired of it?"

Dean ducks another kiss down against a racing pulse and his hands roam every inch of hidden skin, across his belly and around to his back.  
The newness of such a touch nearly makes Castiel sway on his feet, so his once pushing hands are now holding tightly for purchase against the Demon's shoulders.

"...Dean."

Weak, and Dean rewards his failure by licking a long wet stripe from his jaw up to his ear, catching it gently between his teeth and snags a rough pull to it and Castiel gasps curling in his fingers.

"...I know you gotta be sick of it. "  
Punctuating every word with a kiss, promises of what's to come.  
"All that cold. Cold walls. Drafty church. Empty. Lookin' for somethin' that ain't there to fill you up and make you feel somethin'...I can make you feel somethin'...Let me in."

His hands were everywhere and it felt so remarkable. So _good_.  
So... Human.  
Dean's words find their way to his guilty heart more so than his powerful hands.  
It's true. Every word. As if Dean opened him up like a book and dragged his finger along every written word.  
Castiel had been so cold. From the moment he was born he'd been desperately lonely and empty. Living with an ever present bone-deep chill that held him and wouldn't let him go.

But in this moment, the hands that wouldn't let him go were pure heat and comforting warmth. They dragged and rubbed their flames into his neglected flesh and they make him feel so much. If he was thinking with a clear head he'd probably tell himself that it was Hellfire he was feeling, but right now...The firm body that was holding him up made him willful to forget. If this is a test, he's failing. Because everything in him is aching for more touch. He'd probably let this creature eat him alive if Dean saw fit to do so right now.

He wears the resignation like a cloak and allows himself to rest back against the desk because he knows he cannot stand on his own.

And Dean sees it and slips in, rushing all his cracks like a flood and mending them with gold.

Gruff hands curve over his ribs, up his chest. Callused thumbs catch his nipples and rub until the harden with desperation and Castiel's elbows tremble with the effort of holding himself up against the desk.

"....Please... _Help me_."

Whether this whimpered prayer is meant for him or God, Dean steals it anyway and claims him, swooping in he hooks a firm hold around the Priest's back and pulls him into his arms so he can hoist him up and haul him into bed.

Castiel let's himself be taken, holding tight around the Demon's neck, eyes closed until he's pressed against the firm give of the mattress now cradling his shaking spine. 

Over him...The Demon looms. Lustful black eyes that peer into his soul. It makes him shudder in places Dean can't touch him. He's frightened, but unwilling to run. He wants to feel. To exist just in his skin. Not his burdened mind.

He lets his body be manipulated, limbs pulled and tugged as Dean removes his clothing. Modesty forbids him to look at himself laid bare like this before another, so he shields his eyes with a trembling hands. The Demon doesn't seem to appreciate that very much, evident by the way his arm is suddenly pried away and forced down to the mattress overhead. His eyes open to a stern gaze. His heart pounds.

"I--I don't know what to do."

He stammers, and Dean appears amused. He leans in, the bulbs of their noses almost brushing.

"Easy. You just open your legs."

Castiel's face lights a flame of shame and he begins to physically shake beneath him...Second thoughts coming through in waves. His body locks up at the promise and Dean can feel it.

" _Shhhhhhhh_."

The monster coos against his ear, a bold hand going down to feel for his throbbing cock lying thick and heavy against his belly. Castiel nearly bows off the mattress as he's captured within Dean's skilled grasp. He gasps looks down at how the reddened tip drips, spilling down over Dean's fist with each pump. Dark lashes flutter with lust and he's pathetic the way he just gives in. Rocking his hips up into Dean's hand. A pleasure that thrums and catches in his gut. Burning inside his groin and belly. He's never experienced something so close to nirvana.

The Demon watches the way pleasure screws and tightens into the Priest's brow and he feels his own length swell tight in his pants in response.

Wet lips and sharp teeth latch onto the Father's throat and he cries out in response. Dean hums approvingly while making a quick work of his own belt and shoving away his pants. 

Castiel hears the rattle of mental and the bunching of fabric and the fear returns...He can't fathom what to expect, but he's anticipating pain.

"...Wait--"

He breathes out, rough. But Suddenly their bodies press together and the Demon's rigid length presses against the Father's, and Castiel's head falls back against the pillow. It feels so _nice_ , he nearly forgets how to breathe.

"Yeah. 

You want it. "

Dean gruffs out, wrapping his lips around the exposed throat beneath him, earning an involuntary buck from the Priest's narrow hips. The Demon follows right along with him and rocks into the sacred flesh of the other until their weeping tips brush, slick and hot. Just enough friction to make it almost hurt. Castiel's learning. His pelvis presses forward and his hips rock, timid and clumsy as a colt. The Demon's pretty amused by this, and Cas can feel the smile against his skin. It makes him blush in shame and still his movements, but Dean scolds him by quickly taking him by the hips and forcefully keeps them rocking.

" _Ah-ah-ah_...C'mon. Don't stop now. Be a good boy..."

Dean encourages, hand suddenly slipping between them to take hold of both throbbing organs and squeezes them together. The Priest cries out again, nervous hands clutch at the monster's shoulders and his heels dig into the bed as his body bows into the other...He's so close and they haven't even started yet.

"I'm--I think-- _God_ \---"

His bones rattle, Dean's hips suddenly pound against him and Castiel gasps _'please'._

__

_"..._ Can't come yet-" Dean urges, impatient thrusts stuttering every breath.

"...Not 'til m'inside you."

Castiel whimpers, face turning into the crook of Dean's neck, trying his best to string along enough brain cells for rational thought...But Dean does a pretty good job of putting a jump-start on his thoughts when he feels the heavy body over top of him begin to shift...And suddenly a blunt slick intrusion starts to glide over his bashful entrance, teasing circles around his rim. 

Castiel's brain is now throwing up all sorts of warning flares and his fingers curl with fear against the other's broad shoulders.

"Please no-- please, please. Not that. I can't. Don't put it in me please...."

This again. How he doesn't tear Padre's throat out with his own teeth is beyond him.

"Relax. Won't hurt too bad. I won't make it bad. Just lay still."

But before Dean can try to go any further, pleading hands just drop down and cover his. Cas is reaching for the ones clutching at his hips. His eyes seek out Dean's in the dark and Dean is staring. Dark and impatient. But he's still. Somehow.

"....."

He could do it. He has all the strength in the world. He could hold the man down and force himself inside and have the fuck of his life.... But the nervous blue eyes pleading with him through shadows sway his desires long enough to control himself. The Demon gives the most begrudging sigh, resigned. He studies Castiel's face, then Dean's hands slip up to glide along the back of anxious thighs. He presses them forward, catching him beneath the hinges of his knees. 

The Priest's lip gives a defeated tremble, thinking he was to be taken by him anyway. He's pretty beautiful when he suffers, the Demon has to admit. Dean's lips curve up and he hushes his fears with a press to his swollen pout. He encourages his legs around him and the Priest just gives in and hitches his thighs up around the Demon's already rocking hips. Dean hums approvingly and licks into his mouth. Castiel seems too distracted with worry to reciprocate, so Dean decides to get his attention by bucking into him. A rough drag of friction against the Father's swollen neglected cock. It earns a gasp from Castiel's lips, and then Dean slips his tongue right inside, petting heavy against the others. He rocks persistently against him until the Priest responds with timid kisses, that soon fall into dirty rasps and throaty groans. Dean never enters him. Their bodies grind to a feverish rhythm. Until Castiel is more body than mind. Breathless and painfully hard. Cock red and weeping. The only relief that comes is every time Dean's body mercifully crashes into his and rubs pleasure into his pain like a blessing. His entire being is taut as a live wire and his skin is blotchy with pretty shades of pleasured pink dancing across his chest and shoulders. Dean maps out those patches of heat with his tongue. Licking and growling bites into his heated flesh. This isn't even actual intercourse but Castiel can't imagine a higher plane of pleasure. Completely enraptured and entwined with another. Arms that hold. Giving lips. The stubbled burn of cheeks brushing with every rock and glide. The pure rush of ecstasy the coils pleasure profound in his belly until he's just _begging_ the other for release. All this from a Monster. A beast with terrifying eyes and gentle hands. The Priests hips get hiked up a little more, Dean angling him him just right. They fit perfectly the way they slot together and it's suddenly quick. Maddening. His breath refuses to catch up, so he only holds it within his burning lungs. He feels a sudden burst of thick wet heat splash against his length and belly. Soiling him with sticky sin between his thighs. He feels dirty, but not moments later does he follow right behind Dean. Castiel's pleasure crests with a force and tears prickle in his eyes as he's pushed over the edge to fall into a pool of pleasure and contentment. Every nerve in his body sings Dean's praise and Castiel could easily weep. He's still so terrified and mad with this woken desire. He clutches onto this body, hiding his face in the darkness of the other's neck. As if he's afraid to let go. Afraid of what might come after. Afraid to even look him in the eye.

But Dean does pull back from him. Just enough so that their eyes can lock within the shadow. Dean notes the way Castiel's body is trembling, which he soothes by bringing up a hand to cup his cheek.

"....Calm down."

The Priest chases the heat of his touch, turning into his palm with a shuddered sigh. He's so surprised. How something so wrong with a creature like this could pass between them so painlessly. His breath is still held. As if he's still holding out for something terrible to come. But it never does. A callused thumb comes up to brush away a tear that was tracking it's way towards Castiel's temple, and the Priest can only stare.

"Tell me... what happened to you?"

Careful, as if he was playing with fire. Which he was. He knows the way he feels Dean's body tensed. They're still entwined. Castiel can feel it in there other, and in himself.

"Maybe next time...."

_Next time._

 

Castiel exhales a shaky breath. He doesn't know how to feel about that. About anything. He's so raw right now. Like an open wound that can't close.

"....Alright. "

His eyes fall closed in soft resignation. This is probably the worst sin he will commit tonight. Allowing the Demon in. He can't seem to refuse this bleeding soul. If he even has a soul...

 

The next time the Priest opens his eyes, he sees Dean watching him. Uncertainty masking his features, as though he was afraid he was being tricked. 

They both seem to be worried about the same things.

"....I could still kill you, y'know?"

 

"I know..."

Castiel confirms. Wet rimmed eyes staring into cautious greens.

"Is that your intention? When you're through with me?"

The Demon grows very quiet. Rattled about something that Castiel can't figure out. He's waiting for reassurance with bated breath, when Dean just holds his jaw and dips a kiss down against his lips...It almost feels apologetic. And that scares him. His heart sinks and another silent tear spills from the corner of his eye. Falling steadily into his already damp hairline. He feels so helpless.

"I gotta go..."

The monster whispers, and Castiel's lip trembles.

"Dean--please. _Wait_..."

"I can't, Padre. I just can't."

He palms the human's clammy cheek once more.

"...See you soon. "

" _DEAN_."

But the warmth of the body cloaked over him suddenly vanishes into a wisp of smoke which lingers and hangs over him like a storm cloud, then gently dissipates to blend in with the natural shadows of the room. The wet on his belly is cooling and he feels dirty now. And afraid. What has he done. If God ever was on his side, he wouldn't be now. It's only in Dean's absence that sanity returns. When he's before him, Castiel can't see anything beyond the Demon, but now? Oh God forgive him.

He rolls onto his side, pulling his knees up, tugging the blanket around himself, but no matter how he tries...He can't chase away the cold that's returning to his lonely bones. 

He closes his eyes and silently asks for God's comfort...But is he was honest, if he dared look into his own heart. He would see that it was not the Almighty's arms he was longing for right now.

"Dean...I will save you. "

A promise made in the dark. If the Angel's don't like it...Then let them turn their faces away.


End file.
